


Dead by Daylight Imagines!

by KonamiKofi



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Crushes, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Mutual Pining, NbLW, Other, Pining, Singing, Slow Dancing, Vandalism, more to be added as i think of it!!, wlw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:52:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 8,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24316090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KonamiKofi/pseuds/KonamiKofi
Summary: I am a simple sapphic. I see a murderous, or otherwise badass woman, I pine. Created because there isn't enough stuff for the wlw and nblw DBD community! [For all of my -1500 word fics! Anything 1500+ will probably be posted separately <3]
Relationships: Adiris | The Plague/Reader, Adiris | The Plague/You, Amanda Young/Reader, Amanda Young/You, Anna | The Huntress/Reader, Anna | The Huntress/You, F.J.S.J. | The Legion/Reader, Julie (Dead by Daylight)/Reader, Julie (Dead by Daylight)/You, Julie Kostenko (Dead by Daylight)/Reader, Kate Denson/Reader, Laurie Strode/Reader, Lisa Sherwood | The Hag/You, Nea Karlsson/Reader, Rin Yamaoka | The Spirit/Reader, Rin Yamaoka | The Spirit/You, Sally Smithson | The Nurse/Reader, Sally Smithson | The Nurse/You, Susie (Dead by Daylight)/Reader, Susie (Dead by Daylight)/You
Comments: 35
Kudos: 229





	1. Clap and Seek - Susie

**Author's Note:**

> You and Susie watch some old CatDog VHS tapes and talk about clown school.

You move silently across the dilapidated wood, moving expertly around the loudest boards. Your heart beats loudly in your chest as you move, careful not to make a noise. You spot  _ her  _ form and duck into the closest room. You crouch low to the ground, hiding behind the door frame and praying that she hasn’t heard you. You chance a quick glance around the frame, and your eyes roam the woman’s small but intimidating form. Her back is to you, hands empty. Her hands flex as though longing for something to fill them. She moves her head around, searching fruitlessly for you. 

“Clap!” she yells. 

You obey, clapping your hands loudly. She whips around, revealing a makeshift blindfold. You stifle a giggle at how clumsily she moves, and duck back inside the room. Yes, clap and seek: you had come up with the idea after watching  _ The Conjuring  _ with Susie, and she was all too happy to participate. You hide inside a nearby closet just as she enters the bedroom. You move towards the back of the closet and sit down on an old jacket, mindful of the noisy, plastic hangers. You leave the closet door open: it’s always been too squeaky. Instead, you peer through the cracks and observe your Susie as she searches for you. She breathes slowly, listening intently for you. She hums quietly before yelling “clap” again. You obey without a second thought, clapping loudly. Her head whips toward the closet, and she moves slowly towards its entrance. You press yourself even further against the back wall, smiling. 

“(Y/N), I know you’re in here,” she coos. Her hands trace the walls, finding the entrance of the closet quickly. She dips down to crawl on her hands and knees, tattered red skirt fanning out around her. “I mean really, a closet? That’s a little cliche, don’t you think?”

You smile silently, determined to hold your ground. You close your eyes tightly, waiting for her to find you. 

…

You shriek as you feel her hands grasp each of your triceps. She laughs, and you feel your heart soar. You push away the loving thoughts, determined to remain in the moment. You know if you think too much about her, about how her laugh sounds like angels from heaven, or about how soft her lips would feel against yours, you...You’re doing it again. You shake away the thoughts, bent upon composing yourself before she takes off her blindfold. 

“I found you,” she crows. 

You laugh quietly, humming a tone of affirmation. You don’t trust your words right now. 

She moves a hand to push away her blindfold, tugging it down towards her neck. Your hand is moving before you can stop it, pushing her hair out of her eyes. She smiles, parting her lips lightly. Your eyes wander to her lips and back up to her eyes. Her other hand remains firmly attached to your arm, and you feel her tug on you gently. Her eyes scan your face for a moment, and you flush in the darkness of the closet. Then, she closes the gap. 

The kiss is gentle as you press your lips back against hers. You tug her closer, savoring the contact. You feel her smile against your lips, and she hums quietly. She presses her chest against yours, and her spare hand comes to rest behind your neck. You shiver at the chill of her hands, and she chuckles. She pulls away far too soon for your liking, and you find yourself leaning towards her more. She kisses you again, this time chastely.

For a moment, she seems like the most confident woman in the world. Her gorgeous brown eyes glint with an almost smug confidence, and a smirk tugs at her laps. You smile, dazed and in love with the woman before you. Then, of course, she loses her composure. She melts into your embrace, hiding her face in your neck. 

“Oh my god, I’m so happy you didn’t push me away,” she mutters. 


	2. Susie - Clownin' Around

“You should go to clown school too, Suz,” you joke. 

She snorts, rolling over in your lap to flick your side: “Bite me, babe.”

Ah, yes. The absolute pinnacle of entertainment: poorly recorded CatDog VHS tapes. You have no idea who recorded them, or why they’re here, but you’re thankful for the lighthearted entertainment nonetheless. You run your dominant hand through her freshly dyed hair as she rolls back into her spot, eliciting a content sigh from her. You lean into the couch and place a few pieces of popcorn into your mouth with your free hand. The dark room cradles you both, instilling a feeling of calm and kindness: emotions that are usually absent from the typical grasp of the Entity. The bright flashing of the TV illuminates your lover’s face, and you can’t help but smile at the serenity. Your smile grows as a silly thought enters your mind. 

“Do you think clown schools actually exist?” 

“They do, actually. I tried to run away to one once, but they said I wasn’t old enough to attend when I called to reserve a dorm,” she hums. 

‘...Wait, what?’ you’re momentarily taken aback by the blaseness of her statement. You lean over her, trying to get a better look at her face. Was she joking? “Babe,” you giggle, “you can’t just say that kind of shit and not elaborate!”

She takes her eyes off the screen, turning to meet your gaze. She bumps nonsense with you momentarily, giggling once you two make eye contact again. “Yeah,” she giggles, “it was getting right shit at home, so obviously, I wanted to get away. I mean, I always wanted to leave, but this is like... the first time I tried. I must have been 12 or something.”

You lean back into your original position, humming sympathetically.

She rolls onto her back, looking up at you as she speaks: “So you know how in the movies, the abused kid always runs away to the circus, yeah?” 

“Yeah, it’s the classic movie trope.”  
“Yeah, so that was my first plan. Unfortunately, Ormund is such a garbage town, that not even the circus wanted to come! I can’t blame ‘em, of course, but it really threw a fuckin’ wrench in my plans. So then I figured ‘oh, well there has to be a school for this shit, right?’ And what do ya know, I looked in the Yellowpages and found a clown school in Ontario!” Her voice pitches a few notes higher as she begins her next sentence, “But they said you’ve gotta be 18 to go there! And it costs hella cash, so I wouldn’t even be able to attend anyways!” She holds her hands out slightly, twitching her fingers lightly as though it would help prove her point. 

“That’s fucked, hun,” you snicker, “it’s more like a clown _college_ at that point.”

“Clown College!” she crows, gentle laugh peeking its way into her voice. She rolls her eyes in an overexaggerated motion, rolling back to her original position. She refocuses her eyes back on the TV, letting her spare hand rest at your calves. “Fuck you, Bongo the Clown’s School of Joy! You missed out on training the world’s best clown! 1600 bucks my ass. You’d really have to be a clown to pay that much…”

“Bongo the Clown...that’s fucking ridiculous…” you murmur. You resume toying with her hair, watching as CatDog drops from the plane. “What do you think you’d be? If you joined the circus, I mean.” 

“Oh a contortionist, definitely.”

“Because you’re flexible? Or because you wanna freak people out?”

She laughs: “Why not both?”


	3. Chuckle - Anna

_**♪** _ _You just don't know it yet but you love me and I love you the same_

_One day we'll have a pretty wedding and I'll be your everything ♪_

You run through the wooden pallet yet again, praying that the killer doesn’t take her chances and swing through it. Luckily, you’re correct. You’re safe for another loop, and you thank the universe for the extra time. Unfortunately, the killer isn’t deterred as she bounds after your smaller form gleefully. Her lyricless song suffocates you, and your head rings with agitation. Your heart speeds up as the haunting melody worms its way into your brain, choking you with its wordless tune. You pray that your friends finish the generators soon so you can escape this monster.

Her eyes glow behind her rabbit mask, following your form like a predator follows prey. You swallow the fear creeping in your throat to focus on making the most use out of this pallet as possible. You can feel her giant form on your heels, and you throw down the wood as forcefully as you can. 

Yet, rather than hearing her usual yelp, she just...chuckles. You look behind you momentarily to check on the situation: you’re sure you hit her, but then why is she laughing? Do you need to watch for a hatchet? You crane your neck over your shoulder as you run to the next structure, but she doesn’t give chase. She stands at the fallen pallet watching you, and she drops her axe to the ground. One hand keeps a grip on the heavy weapon, while her free hand comes up to cradle her face. The weight of the axe sends soft tremors through the ground, but the noise is shockingly loud. You stop running for a moment, disobeying the adrenaline and cortisol pumping through your veins. Her soft laughter is practically deafening in the trial grounds. Logically, you know that the noise is a quiet one. Yet, the eye contact seems to make the noise louder and more... personal. You shiver, fighting the urge to run away like the prey she likely views you as. You can’t decide on whether her laughter is angelic or demonic. It’s light and chimes like the most gorgeous church bells; however, is that just part of her allure? Beauty is dangerous, after all. You settle on the metaphor of a siren’s call. 

Slowly, her laughter dies off. She pulls her hand away from her face to pick her long axe back up, spinning it around in her hands experimentally. You shift your feet around anxiously, preparing to run at a moment’s notice. Her hum picks back up and she turns away, presumably to find another survivor. You breathe a sigh of relief and start to look for a generator to work on. Crisis avoided. 

_♪ We'll be together, yes forever, we will never ever part_

_Oh you don't know it yet but baby I've already got your heart ♪_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song lyrics are from “An Unhealthy Obsession” by The Blake Robinson Synthetic Orchestra! TW/CW for stalking!


	4. Anna - Language Barrier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Learning a language isn't easy, but it's better when you're learning it for someone you love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the results from my WIP quiz on Quotev!

You run your hands along the thick, coarse fur that adorns your shared bed, admiring the sturdiness of the pelts. Tundra wolves are so much larger that you expected, honestly. It's almost impossible to overstate their stature. You sigh deeply, allowing yourself to sink into the comfortable warmth. You're brought out of your thoughts by the gentle touch of your beloved. You look up, making eye contact with her bright, icy eyes. She moves slowly, laying herself down next to you as though fearful of starting you. You lean your head on her broad shoulders once she settles, looking up at her kindly. She returns the soft look, giving you a gentle smile. She places a book in front of you, and you run your hands along the soft leather binding. She places a large hand over yours, gently opening the book.   
...It's a picture book?   
You turn to look at her, and she smiles softly at you. She points at one of the pictures in the book: "олень."  
You pause. "...Haileed?"  
She chuckles, repeating herself more slowly: "олень." She taps the picture again, this time with more life.   
She smiles when you pronounce the word correctly, and she presses her lips to your forehead in praise. You beam at the wordless praise, relishing the cold feel of her lips against your skin. When she pulls away you point at the picture.   
"Deer," you smile.  
"Tia?"  
You giggle at her pronunciation, correcting her gently. When she gets it right she smiles softly, repeating the word again under her breath. You allow yourself a moment of peace, watching the joy work its way across her roughened features. She lets the word rest on her tongue for a few moments before twitching her nose, turning back to the book. She turns the page delicately, as though afraid of tearing the ancient paper. She points to the next animal in the book: a rabbit.   
"за́йка"  
You smile, lacing your fingers with hers: "Zaika!"   
She laughs quietly, bringing your interlocked hands up to kiss them gently: "да, за́йка."   
You lean into her strong embrace, moving one hand to point at her. "за́йка!"  
"Hm?"   
You point at her again, this time tapping her collarbone. "Anna, за́йка!"  
She pauses, staring at you for the barest of moments. For a moment you consider adding more words to the sentence, but you're held back by the looming presence of the language barrier. Your worries are soon vanquished as you watch her shake her head, smile working its way across her rough features. " Я люблю тебя, милая" she laughs.   
"I love you too, Anna"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> олень = Deer
> 
> за́йка = Rabbit
> 
> да = Yes 
> 
> Я люблю тебя = I love you
> 
> милый = A Russian pet name: equivalent to darling
> 
> I didn't put translations in the chapter itself, since I believe this provides a more realistic view of the language barrier between you both! I also believe it would have disrupted the flow of writing.


	5. Adiris - Tiamat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuing on the trend of language barriers, this time with Adiris!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you know that the official language of Babylon was Akkadian? I didn't! All of the words translated are real sentences, albeit potentially grammatically incorrect.   
> [Another result from my WIP quiz!]

"Ḫibu?" 

You place your thumb in the crease of your book, marking the page for later. You hum, turning towards your girlfriend inquisitively. She waves you towards her, pointing towards the wall of your shared temple. You place a small piece of paper into your book as a makeshift bookmark, and walk towards her. The book can wait, you suppose. She gestures to a recently dusted piece of stone, revealing an intricate carving of a woman with a red sash and curly hair. Around her lie six snakes, now worn away by time. Adiris takes your hand gently, moving it towards the wall. Her hand boils with the warmth of infection, although you no longer shudder at the feeling. You allow her to guide your hand as she rests it upon the woman. IThe stone is cold to the touch, creating a paradox of temperatures upon your hand. She presses once more on your hand before removing her own. You find yourself missing the touch, although you do not voice this. You run your thumb over the warm stone, taking in the texture of the cool, ancient rock.

"Lahamu. Lulīmu aštaru, bintu a Tiamat," she whispers. You don't know what her words mean, but you listen regardless. The passion and love engrained into her voice captivates you, compelling you to listen to her words. The power of a priestess, you suppose. She continues on, presumably telling you the history of this revered woman. A goddess, perhaps? Adiris speaks with a calming grace that lulls you into a contemplative tranquility. Every now any then she makes a gesture with her hands, vaguely filling you in on the woman's tale. You manage to make out some words such as "water" and "snake." Isn't it strange how easily you two connect, despite the language barrier? You listen to her happily, content in hearing the passion in her voice. As she finishes her tale, she sits down on a nearby slab of stone. 

"Dalīlu, narāmtu," she whispers. 

You recall the first word, sitting down and forming a response quickly. "Of course, Adiris. I love you." You turn your gaze away from the ancient rock, instead focusing it on your lover. "I always love to listen to you. I don't always understand it, of course, but hearing the passion and love in your voice is enough."

She turns towards you, smiling: "Râmu issēniš akki, narāmtu."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ḫibu = Beloved  
> Lahamu. Lulīmu aštaru, bintu a Tiamat = Lahamu. Constellation goddess, daughter of Tiamat.   
> Dalīlu, narāmtu = Thank you, darling  
> Râmu issēniš akki, narāmtu = I love you too, darling


	6. Julie Kostenko - Candyman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another result from my WIP quiz! You're spraypainting the Candyman Mural with your kickass girlfriend, and you start wondering where he gets his name from.

"Babe, I think you need a mask for that. A bandanna, at least," you tease. 

  
"Nah, I'll be fine. I don't think The Entity would risk that sort of shit," she replies, "come on, help me paint this thing. You ever see Candyman?" 

  
You hum a reply of affirmation, picking up a can of dark brown spray-paint yourself. You give it a quick shake before moving to shade in the areas around The Candyman's mouth. "So, why do they even call him that? I don't remember the movie mentioning candy at all. Not even in the 2020 version." 

  
Julie turns to look at you, momentarily stunned at the mention of 2020. You meet her gaze, chuckling at her bewildered expression as you turn back to continue your work.

"Okay, first and foremost," she begins, "I still can't fucking believe you're from 2020. That shits wack. Second...it's never explained super well." She gives the can she's holding another shake, trying to get more paint out of it. She throws it over and picks up a new one once she realizes it's empty: "I never got around to reading 'The Forbidden,' but I assume its because he was covered in honey before death."

  
You nod, before realizing she's focused on painting the base. "Yeah, that makes sense. Didn't the people also leave out candy for him as well?" 

  
"Yeah. I remember when the chick steps into the fuckin' murder room she finds a whole bunch of chocolate with razor blades in 'em. That was so fucked up, I love it," she snickers. "You think anyone's ever done that in real life? I was always warned about it, but I've never actually heard about it happening." 

  
"I've only ever heard of small, isolated incidents. Never anything on the scale of like, the Tylenol murders. But I do remember this dude from Minneapolis shoving needles into Snickers bars. I don't think anyone died though," you reply. You see Julie look at you from your peripheral vision, and you smile gently. 'She's cute when she's interested,' you think. 

  
"Wait, for real? When did this happen?" She stops painting entirely, turning her full attention towards you. She leans against an unpainted section of the wall, pushing the bangs out of her face. Her dark brown eyes twinkle with excitement.

  
"Early 2000's, I'm pretty sure. He was arrested pretty quick though, and there was only one kid who got pricked. Even then, the kid was fine. There was also some dude in '74 who laced these giant Pixie Stix with cyanide," you pause, throwing your hands in the air, "crazy fuckin' dude ended up killing his own son! And he meant to do that, too!" 

  
She runs her hand through her hair again, scoffing: "What an asshole. Kids are annoying and all, but you don't take it that far. Where do you find out about this shit?"

  
"The internet. It's like, an essential nowadays. If you don't have internet at home, you really can't do much. I mean, you literally have all of the information in the world at the tips of your fingers..." you pause, "If we ever get out of here, I'm gonna show you all of it. Shits gonna blow your _mind_ ," you giggle.

She pushes herself off of the wall, stepping towards you in a few, long strides. She leans down to your height, smirking. She pecks you gently, pulling back quickly. "Aces." 


	7. Sally Smithson - Nail Polish and Betty White

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You do Sally's nails and talk about childhood crushes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Result from my WIP quiz!

What's the first thing you notice about a person? Your answer is likely dependent on your age, and the age of the people who raised you. It's no secret that generational trends exist; in fact, these trends apply to many of the perceptions we have about our natural world. As such, it's no surprise that noticing physical traits is one of the many things that falls under generational trends. Additionally, the first quality one notices tends to be reflected in their self-care. 

Sally's generation, for instance, values the look of one's nails. Unfortunately, it's hard to upkeep your nails when you're a floating, murdering corpse in an unknown realm of darkness. Your nails tend to get chipped, and blood and dirt is far more likely to get caught under your nails in this scenario. Not to mention the natural scarcity of supplies in the Entity's realm. But every now and then, a reward is provided for exemplary behavior.   
"You know, I always wanted to be like Betty Thurnbill. She was my idol growing up, but my father never liked no bearcats," she coughs deeply, but recovers quickly: "He wanted me to be a homemaker. What father doesn't?" She wheezes again, as though punished by her quick recovery earlier. You run your thumb across her ice-cold hand, waiting patiently for her to catch her breath.   
"Oh yes," she rasps, squeezing your hand back, "I always loved Mrs. White too. Her and Allen, they were so talented. I remember when the southern states started petitioning to remove Allen from the show. And you know what she did? She said if they made him leave, she'd leave too!"  
You lay down the peach nail file and pick up the nail polish. You try and read the label on the old bottle, but you can't seem to make out any words besides "Cutex" and "35c." You open the bottle and begin applying the lacquer to her nails. "White? As in Betty White?" you ask.   
"Yes, Betty White!"She chimes, "Is she still popular in your time?"   
"Yeah, everybody knows who Betty White is! She was like, the first lady of TV. What did she do in your time?" You finish the first coat for her right hand, setting it to the side gently. You then pick up her left hand and press your lips to its back. You smile as she giggles before lowering it back to the table. You give the bottle of polish another quick shake before applying the first coats to her left nails.   
"Life with Elizabeth was her first show, I believe. Oh, but I loved all of her stuff. Her interviews were incredible, and even her commercials were entertaining. And god, don't even get me started on her singing!"  
You chuckle, "Sounds like you had a bit of a thing for her, love. Was she cute back then? She's such a sweet little old lady now, so it's hard to imagine her as a young woman."   
She tuts, "If my nails weren't drying, I'd have half the mind to thwack you upside the head."   
You smirk, scraping away the excess paint from her skin. "I don't think that's an answer, Sally."   
She hums: "Well, I suppose I did. You can't really blame me though, she was quite a choice bit of calico! Not that I'd tell anyone else that," she rasps.   
You finish applying the paint onto her left nails and move back to her right to apply the second layer. The bright pink shines radiantly in the fluorescent light, and you can't help but smile at your handiwork. Not bad for nail polish synthesized by dark magic! You lean forward and kiss the cloth covering her face: "Well, you told me. That's gotta count for something, right?"


	8. Amanda Young - Stargazing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Amanda climb the cars of Azarov to get a better view of the stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another quiz result! I'm excited to bang out the last few results so I can publish it! 
> 
> Short, but sweet <3

"Okay, so you see that big, jagged edge of Pisces?" you ask.   
"Uh, huh."  
"So keep following that down, and you'll get to Mira, which is this binary star that's made up of a red giant and a companion star. The system is like, 420 light years away."   
She snickers: "Nice."   
You slap her shoulder gently, and she laughs again. "So what is Mira part of, then?"   
"It's part of Cetus, this giant fuckin' whale monster," you explain. You trace the outline of the giant constellation with your finger, and you can see her follow your hands with her head in your peripheral vision. You smile softly at her interest.  
"I can kind of see it. Looks more like a giraffe to me though," she drawls, "I wonder how they started thinking of this shit. I guess that's what happens when you have nothing else to do."   
"Yeah, I guess it does kinda look like a giraffe. Depends on which way you look at it, honestly," you whisper. You both fall quiet at you gaze a the stars. You look towards her, taking in her beauty under the dull glow of the moon. You snuggle closer to her, taking your edge of the jacket with you. She cranes her head to look at you briefly before laying her arm out to pull you closer. You sigh contentedly, looking at the sky once more. Amanda hums a soft melody under her breath, and the deep notes of her tune send soft vibrations throughout your body. You can't seem to recall the tune, although, maybe she's just made it herself. You snuggle deeper into her embrace, listening closely to the soft, loving notes. Her voice mixes effortlessly with the squeaking settlement of the rusting cars, and the crickets seem to join in eagerly. Her heartbeat provides a steady beat to her song, even if it is technically off-beat. Although, you suppose she can't exactly control that. You smile softly, closing your eyes as she pets your hair. 

There's plenty of places you'd rather be right now. Living in The Entity's realm isn't exactly ideal, after all. But so long as you're with Amanda, you're happy. And in that sense, there's nowhere you'd rather be.


	9. Quiz!!

Not a chapter, but I figured I'd let y'all know that the quiz is finally complete!!! Every result has a drabble, and all of the female killers are included! All drabbles are gender-neutral as well, so go wild y'all!!! Thank you for all of the kind comments and kudos thus far <3 I can't wait to post more stuff!!

LINK: https://www.quotev.com/quiz/12646131/Which-DBD-Killer-would-you-date-SAPPHIC 


	10. Simple Shapes - Nea Karlsson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request: Could you do an imagine about Nea teaching their partner how to graffiti? Pretty please and thank you 😊

You smile underneath your worn out bandana, shaking your can of spray paint excitedly. Today is the day that your girlfriend finally teaches you the beautiful, if mildly illegal, art of graffiti. You two have been plotting to steal some paint cans from The Legion for a while, and after all this time, you finally succeeded. You only took two cans from their shed to avoid suspicion, although you doubt they’ll care that much. 

“Keep shaking it,” Nea pressed, “I have no idea how mixed these are, considering how probably-cursed Entity brand paint is..” 

You chuckle, more than happy to shake the can wildly. The agitator pea clicks happily from inside the can, and you realize how much you’ve missed the mundane aspects of your old life. You look back up at your girlfriend and return her smile, even though she can’t see yours. You’d take Nea over your old life, any day of the week. She beckons you over to the wall with a small nod, and you follow her lead. 

“Keep shaking it, and I’ll run you over the basics. Usually, I use a fatcap to catch all of the goop, but we can make do with these little ones. It’s honestly been a while since I’ve used like, paint though. After I got a job at the local Pressbyrån, I started buying better shit like Molotows so I could get in and out. Cans are still good, though.” She places one hand over yours, adjusting your fingers carefully. Her rough hands carry a kindness in the way they move around yours, bringing along with them a much-adored warmth. You allow her hands to move your own without question as she places your index over the cap and curls the reset around the can. She spares a moment to ask if that’s comfortable enough for you, and you respond with a simple nod. She places a quick, chaste kiss to your temple before dropping to pick up her own can. She ties her bandanna loosely around her face before gesturing to the old, cement wall. 

“Alright,” she begins, “to keep the lines all pretty and nice you’re gonna wanna position your hand directly in front of the wall with the can facing right forward. We’re using skinny caps, so we’re gonna stay real close to the wall - say, about a few inches away. Also, keep in mind how pressurized the can is. So like, if you have a high pressure can and move too slowly, you’re going to get hella drips. So with a high pressure can, you’re gonna wanna move pretty fast, and low pressure is the opposite. Got that?” 

You nod slowly, taking time to process the information. There’s a lot that goes into graffiti, huh? 

“Alright, let me know if I’m going too fast.” She puts her hand on the small of your back, guiding you closer to the wall. She then moves behind you, adjusting your feet with gentle nudges from her own. She tucks her can under her arm so that she can adjust your own, almost cradling your body with her own. Her body is comfortingly warm, compared to the chilled air of Ormond. Her hand moves to cover your own before applying the gentlest pressure on your index finger. The neon pink paint hisses out of the can loudly, coating the wall in vibrant paint. “You need to move your whole body with the paint. It’s a lot more exercise than you think,” she mutters. “For now let’s just practice with basic shapes.” 

You move as one as you trace two arcs onto the smooth wall. The paint dries quickly and thanks to Nea’s expert skill, the paint stays perfectly in place. Not a single drop of paint falls out of place, instead choosing to remain as perfect lines. 

You two step back in sync, admiring your work. A simple, toony heart now marks the building’s exterior, defacing it with the most saturated pink possible. You admire the simple shape as Nea moves away from your body. You pull at your bandanna, pulling down towards your neck. You smile softly as your eyes trace the shape. You’re startled out of your thought by the loud clicking of an agitator pea. You look over towards Nea, watching as she shakes her own dark green can of paint. She moves forward without hesitation, popping off the cap and spraying her own design inside of the heart. In just a few, short seconds, she tags the interior of the heart. 

You read the stylized words once she steps back and you immediately gush at the sweet gesture. Within the heart resides your guys’ initials with a little plus connecting them. You reach for her hand, interlocking your fingers with practiced fluidity. 

What a sweetheart. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N: Anon...your mind…. I loved writing this so much, thank you for being my first request! <3]


	11. Prom Night - Laurie Strode

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Could you possibly do an imagine of Laurie slow dancing with her gf? Please and thank you. 💜 

You trace your index finger along the ridges of the worn picnic table, memorizing its grooves. It’s a strange object in this realm, although you suppose you can’t necessarily complain. You’ve missed mundane little things like this. Laurie leans her head against your shoulder, and you move to put your arm around her. You pull her closer, squeezing her shoulder gently. Had it not been for the thick fog, suffocating darkness, and looming brick walls, you might have mistaken this for a normal day in a normal world. You spare a glance to the woman resting on your shoulder and smile to yourself. You suppose you might not have met if all of this didn’t happen. So, in a way, perhaps this was fate. At the very least, she’s the brightest glimmer of hope that you have. You place a gentle kiss to the top of her head, prompting her to look up at you. She smiles at you softly before returning to her place at your side. 

“Hey bunny, did you ever go to prom?” She whispers. 

You close your eyes, thinking back to the days of highschool. You hum, forming your response and delivering it quietly. She hums back, thinking on your words. “What about you?” you ask. 

“No,” she pauses, “I didn’t really want to go back to school after Michael. He attacked in the autumn of my senior year, and after that, I didn’t really wanna chance a big gathering. My mom and dad tried to get me to go anyways, have a couple’a Smokey’s guard the place, but I didn’t really feel safe. I mean, it’s Michael, you know? So... I never went.” 

You run your hand through her hair, processing her words. You swing your leg out from under you, shambling out of the confines of the table. She turns her head towards you, startled by your sudden movement. Confusion swims in her deep blue eyes, and you internally rejoice at the lack of trepidation within them. She really does trust you. You hold out your hand to her, urging her to take it with a twitch of your fingers. “I can’t give you shitty punch and overpriced food, but we can at least dance, right?” 

She shakes her head, air slipping from between her parted lips. She interlocks her fingers with yours, looking up with a chuckle under her breath. She rolls her eyes, but the joy in her smile betrays her faked apathy. “I’m no closet disco queen. I don’t really know how to dance.” Yet, she moves closer to you, draping her free hand around your neck. You suppose you know enough to lead her through the movements. 

“I don’t know,” you chuckle, “I can totally see you getting down to...what’s 70’s music like? The Beatles?” You rest your free hand on her hip, guiding the two of you in a dance. 

She shakes her head again at your words, “God no. Well, I mean, they are 70’s, but if you accuse me of liking them again, I’m gonna walk back to the campfire and leave your ass behind.” 

“Well, it wouldn’t be prom if someone didn’t leave in a big, dramatic show, right?” You smile before settling into a peaceful silence. You hum a soft tune under your breath, although you can’t seem to remember where it’s from. She rests her head on your shoulder once more, mimicking the scene from just moments ago. You pull her closer, turning your bodies slowly. Your heart beats steadily, providing a tempo for your impromptu dance. Her thumbs trace soft patterns along the exposed skin of your neck, sending shivers through your body. No matter how many times she does it, the innocent, intimate action always leaves you breathless. You feel her smile against you, and you squeeze her hips back in response. 

You find the song in the back of your mind, placing lyrics to the tune you’re humming. 

_“And all I ever want is just a little love, I said in purrs under the palms."_

You smile. This is where you’re supposed to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when DBD had that bug where you could go outside the map as survivor? Like, there would be this bug where you couldn't use any of your items, and you couldn't escape the actual map unless you went through the hatch. When the exit gates were open, you could just walk through and go around the outside of the map. Anyways, there were so many things outside of the map?? Like there were benches and picnic tables everywhere like,,, I can't stop thinking about it.........anyways that's where this takes place lmao. weird trivia of the day!


	12. Relationship HC's - Anna

  * Anna loves to hold you. It makes her feel like she’s protecting you from the outside world. Not to mention, she’s really touch starved. 
  * She’ll often pet your head, regardless of how much hair you have. 
  * Please run your hands over her buzzcut. She makes the sweetest sigh. 
  * Often kisses the top of your head. She’s around 7’0 tall, so it’s usually the easiest way to kiss you. 
  * Her bed is so cozy. It’s covered with so many different pelts, and the fur is so soft. If you ask about them, she’ll tell you the story behind each one. You can never tell if she’s embellishing the stories or not. 
  * She’s even more touchy if you’re a survivor. There have been multiple times where she’s threatened to kill another killer for hurting you. You always manage to convince her that it’s their job, and that she would do the same thing to anyone else, but it’s the thought that counts. 
  * She gets so soft when you call her by her name for the first time. 
  * She’s a great cook. You never go hungry when you’re with her. 
  * I really hope you’re not vegetarian, because she always uses meat in her cooking. The only things she can grow are potatoes, and if the season is perfect, buckwheat. 
  * She just doesn’t understand vegetarianism? Survival has been the cornerstone of her life, and calorie management is a huge part of that. Even if you tell her that you eat fine without meat, it just won’t make sense to her. She’ll do her best to accommodate for you though. 
  * (She makes incredible blintzes. If you can convince her to exclude the meat stuffing, they go great with wild cherries and blueberries.) 
  * If you’re not a vegetarian, prepare for the heartiest meals you’ve ever had. Her zharkoye is literally to die for. It’s always nice to come home from a trial and smell the stew cooking over the fire. 
  * She waits at the Survivor’s campfire when you’re in trials. The other survivors are very unnerved and intimidated by her hulking form, eyes glowing in the darkness. 
  * She just wants to make sure you come home safe. And a couple (or a dozen) pairs of prying eyes won’t convince her to leave. 
  * She’s very afraid of losing you. There have been times where the Entity has barred her from the Survivor’s Realm so that it could drain some of her emotional energy and...her home has never looked so empty. She tore so much stuff off the walls, destroyed so many blankets... It was the happiest day of her life when you came home to her. You could feel her heart pounding like a drum beneath her chest as she bent down to hug you. You had to lead her to the bed to lay her down and get her to stop hyperventilating. 
  * She was a lot more brutal in matches for about a week. Not that you knew that, of course. She just couldn’t stop thinking about what she could have did wrong. She had to appease It. 
  * She loves to carry you. You could weigh 90lbs, 250lbs, or anywhere in between. It doesn’t matter: She’s strong as fuck and she’s gonna pick you up. 
  * She really tries to learn your language, especially if you aren’t fluent in Russian. 
  * She’s almost always humming something. Bayushki Bayu isn’t always sung around your house, actually. Her mother taught her a lot of other songs when she was little, but Bayushki Bayu just has the most sentimental memories. She'll sing it occasionally if she’s 100% absorbed in what she’s doing, but it’s out of habit more than anything. 
  * You got awful shivers the first time she started muttering “тили тили бом” under her breath. All of the horror movies you watched came back at full force. Who knew that was actually a real lullaby? Not you. 
  * It’s a little unnerving that all of her lullabies are about death, but her explanation for it is actually really heartwarming. 
  * “Death limps to those who fear and fight her, and she passes around those who call her. I ward away death by singing of her.” 
  * She picks up on any songs you sing very quickly. Your songs are quickly added to her own repertoire. 
  * (One time Meg came up to you and asked why the fuck The Huntress was humming Africa by Toto, and you couldn’t stop laughing about it.) 
  * If you start singing, she’s instantly put at ease. 
  * She loves to make you little trinkets. Her hands are big, but dextrous. 
  * Speaking of hands, she also likes to hold your hand. She loves how little your hands are, compared to hers. 
  * 10/10 I love my wife <3 




	13. Cruel Chimera - Susie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chimera: A thing that is hoped or wished for, but in fact is illusory or impossible to achieve.

_ Walk in the room, take off your coat _

_ You look so nice, I've been so cold _

You raise the red solo cup to your lips, cringing as the taste of cheap alcohol and oversaturated punch hits the back of your throat. It burns as you will the shitty party drink down, desperately searching for something to keep your mind occupied. The room is suffocating, and the air is thick with dozens of hushed whispers. Either The Entity sucks at throwing parties, or it’s gathering some sort of enjoyment from the tense, awkward atmosphere. You’re guessing it’s the latter, although you don’t really want to think about that either. If It’s enjoying this, then that probably means you’ll have to put up with this shit more often. Yeah, you’ll take death before you come back here willingly. But that’s not your choice, is it? You roll your shoulder anxiously, suddenly aware of the eyes of countless killers boring into you. You shouldn’t be standing alone like this, like a gazelle separated from the herd. You hesitantly look up from your cup: maybe there’s a free group of survivors you could mingle with. There’s safety in numbers, after all. And, there’s noise in numbers: distraction. Zarina, Adam, Claud, Kate… fuck, you’ll take anyone right about now. You scan your side of the room quickly, searching for an opening, any opening at all, and then… you stop. You suck a quick breath of air through your teeth, cursing yourself quietly. 

_ You wanna be my special one _

_ I cannot breathe, please just go home _

Bubblegum pink hair flows down her shoulders like a saccharine waterfall, framing her face angelically. The bloodstained mask that usually covers her face rests in her hands, cradled with a gentle touch that juxtaposes her daily task of slaughter. How can a killer hold something so sweetly? And… her smile. She’s smiling at you, but there’s no malice. It’s genuine: too genuine. You can’t breathe. You reflexively nod your head at her before tearing your gaze away, forcing your body to move anywhere else. 

_ Michelle, Michelle _

_ You are a monster from hell _

A killer has no right to be so beautiful, to be so gentle and kind, to be so… perfect. Especially not to you. Because once this little get-together is over, it’ll be right back to the torturous game of cat and mouse. And yet, you can’t help the brief wave of softness that comes when you think of her. Why? She’s never done anything but hunt you, and yet you melt at the way she smiles. Each little detail about her comes to your mind when you blink, and each detail reminds you that she too, is human. And you hate that. 

_ You know just how to be cruel _

_ When you shake your hips that way _

_ Paint your lips that way _

You smile to Feng, Dwight, Claudette, and Cheryl as you worm your way into the small group of survivors before delivering a quick “Hey” to those around you. You vaguely register a look of concern from Claud through your stupor, and you can’t help but feel a twinge of shame. You dismiss her concerns with a chuckle and a wave, delivering a quick response about how you were just sizing up the room. Nothing to worry about. She nods, albeit somewhat hesitantly, before returning to the conversation at hand. She’s too sweet for her own good, really. But as hard as you try, you can’t focus on what they’re saying. No, your mind is on that pink-haired member of The Legion. 

Your body moves of its own accord, turning to shoot a glance at her once again. Much to your surprise, she’s still staring straight at you. Her small, almost dazed smile quickly turns into a flustered grin as her eyes meet yours. If you hadn’t known any better, you would have thought she jumped a little. A soft blush rises to her ears, spreading to her cheeks and darkening the longer your eyes remain locked. And, you’d be lying if you couldn’t feel the heat rise to your face too. And then, she raises her hand. It’s slow, and even at a distance, you can see the way her hand shakes. Her index and middle finger juts out quickly, almost like they were moving of their own free will, before they retreat back into her palm. She pulls her hand back, thinking of her next move, before extending it once more to wave. Such a small action, just a wave, had so much thought put into it. It’s almost… cute. Against your better instincts, you smile back softly and return a wave. And fuck, you’re glad you did. Her blossoming blush erupts into a red as deep as a freshly-picked rose. The same hand that she waved to you with moves to grasp the opposite arm, squeezing gently as though it was the only thing holding her together. Her eyes dart to the ground momentarily before returning to you with a look you can’t seem to decipher. For a moment, there’s no one else but you and her.

The tall girl with cropped, brunette hair - another member of The Legion, if you remember correctly, nudges the girl of your affections with a small huff. She smirks, muttering something that you can’t manage to make out. With a small jump, she puffs out her cheeks and turns away from you. Her lips move at a rapid-fire pace, stringing together sentences faster than you can read them. The rest of The Legion laugh, drawing a couple of stares from killers and survivors alike. The pink haired woman bounces on her heels as she moves her hands, seemingly trying to convey some point that the other members aren’t willing to buy. 

It would never work out, really. A survivor and a killer together… it’s something that could never happen even in your wildest dreams. And yet, you can’t help but hope. Maybe there’s something there, something worth fighting for. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song lyrics are from "Michelle" by Sir Chloe!


	14. Honey - Kate Denson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Request: I don't know if you take requests here, but I would really love it if you did a oneshot of Kate and the reader singing to each other. I think it would be really cute. :)

Slender fingers dance over the strings of the worn guitar, plucking angelic tones with practiced ease. You rest your head in your hands, listening to the chords Kate pulls from the instrument. A guitar like this, old as it may be, is a blessing in her hands. In anyone else’s hands, it may have just been a distraction from the usual cycle of cuts, sacrifices, and blood. But in her hands, a whole new world springs forth to cradle its inhabitants in warmth and love. You smile to yourself; that was way too corny. You’ll have to tell her that one, later.    
“Hey honey,” she murmurs to you, “have you ever heard of Mary Lambert?” Her southern twang weaves its way into the sentence, seemingly deepened by her whisper. You can’t help but melt a little at the drawl.    
“Is she the one who wrote ‘She Keeps Me Warm’?”

“Mmhm.” 

“Yeah, then I know a few of her songs,” you chuckle, “Why?” 

“Sing with me.”

You pause, looking up at her. She smiles softly down at you, but her fingers don’t stop moving across the frets. You laugh a little bit: “Baby, I don’t sing. You’re the singer, here. Serenade me.” 

She laughs, and you can feel yourself fall in love all over again. Strange, how such a simple noise can melt your heart. “Come on, please,” she asks, “for me?” 

You take your head off of your arms, closing your eyes and stretching with a soft groan. You feel the tension in your shoulders release as your spine gives a few soft cracks. At the apex of your stretch, you open your eyes, shooting Kate a toothy smile. “Just for you.”

She smiles, halting her strums and leaning forward to press a quick kiss to your lips. And then, she starts strumming once more. Her fingers dance from D, to an E, to E minor with practiced fluidity, showing you the title of the song before she even starts singing. 

_ I’d Be Your Wife _

You will away the water that threatens to spill over your eyes, and she smiles at you. The light from the campfire, now devoid of other survivors, paints and ethereal glow over her features. Her long, curly blonde hair frames her face like gold, which in turn brings out the pale blue of her eyes. She’s gorgeous. 

“These are my hands,” she sings, “These are all that I've got.”

Your heart thrums as you start to sing: “I've looked around, and you're the one that I want.” The tears come yet again, and your voice starts to shake. But you don’t feel embarrassed, no: you’re so overcome with love and adoration, that there’s nothing else you can think of but… her. 

She picks up where you leave off flawlessly, honeyed voice enveloping you with kindness and love. “I'm not really clever, but I got a lil' spark of a heart that's waiting for you to start.” 

You laugh a little bit before joining into the chorus with her. 

_ I'd be your wife _

_ I'd be your wife _

_ It started with a feeling, then you had me dreaming _

_ Now you never leave my side _

_ So can you give us a try? _

_ 'Cause I'd be your wife _


End file.
